


Charcoal + Textbooks

by AtPK



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:49:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtPK/pseuds/AtPK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi is disturbed from his work when a swat officer knocks on his front door and asks to come in</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Charcoal

Levi stared at the canvas in front of him.

Last night it had been blank. A mocking expanse of white. He’d stood and stared at it for hours. Staring. The image had been there in his mind. And then it had gone. He hadn’t been able to wrap his eye around it.

Now, he stared at it for a different reason.

Hanji had said that the joint she’d rolled for him would help him connect with his inner sight, or some shit like that, and in the end he’d given it a try. He could vaguely remember the purpose in his strokes, the deliberate certainty, the need with which the image had taken form.

If this was the product of his inner sight, then what the actual fuck.

Levi swallowed the two aspirin in his hand, and reached for the charcoal, where it still sat poised and ready for him to continue work. He’d have a hard time trying to sell this one. It was too dark. Too … painful. It’d probably end up in the back of his studio, unsold, along with the others like it. Either there, or in his bedroom.

The doorbell rang and he ignored it. Focused on entering the zone.

The doorbell rang again, this time accompanied with a sharp knocking.

“What the fuck did you put in that joint?” He demanded, wrenching the front door open. He’d expected it to be Hanji, coming to see what her money had financed. But it wasn’t Hanji.

“Sir,” the officer said. He stood about a head and shoulders taller then Levi, a smile on his face and a rifle in his hands. Levi suddenly very much regretted mentioning the illegal substance he’d consumed the night before. The officer removed his helmet. “I’m with the Specialist Firearms Unit.”

Levi looked at his kevlar body armour; the grenades and canisters tucked into his assault vest; the hand gun in his leg holster.

“You’re swat, or something?”

The officer nodded once and smiled again, a smile that Levi thought would probably put most members of the general public at ease. It didn’t put Levi at ease.“There’s nothing to be concerned about, sir.” If there was nothing to be concerned about then why exactly was swat on his doorstep? “We have tracked a suspect to this location and he has currently gone to ground in the block adjacent to this one.” Levi glanced over his shoulder in the direction the officer had pointed. “I’ve been told, I should have a direct line of sight from the third floor, five windows in from the left.” Levi looked at his living room window. “Please may I gain access to your property?”

Could he be arrested for saying no? The pause dragged on. The officer waited.

“Smith,” the walkie takie at his shoulder blipped. “Are you in place?”

“Sir?” The officer asked him, imploring. He sure had this public engagement shit down to an art.

Levi shrugged and moved aside. “Just don’t fucking mess anything up.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And stop calling me sir.”

“Yes si-” the officer started, just a hint of laughter in his voice, but the second he caught sight of Levi’s living room wall, he stopped short. The metalwork had that effect on most people. Levi had created it in another fit of drugged inspiration. It was a man, arms spread wide above the window frames, wings wrought on his back. Most people were just impressed by the skill he’d taken to make it and that was fine. But the officer looked at it with a mixture of both sadness and hope; he reached out a hand as if to touch the wings.

“Smith?”

He instantly snapped out of whatever place he’d been in . Stepping over to the centre window, he carefully moved aside Levi’s, now almost dead, housewarming plant, slowly nudged open the window, and got into the position he would more or less then hold for the next two hours.

“In position, sir.” he spoke into the walkie talkie.

All business.

Levi shrugged again and then turned back to his canvas.

There had only been one blank space left to fill, and now he saw clearly what to fill it with. The officer stood perfectly in profile, the sun on his face, both shadow and light. Levi picked up his charcoal and began to draw, looking up every now and again to correct his perspective.

Silence, apart from the occasion burst of static from the walkie talkie and the scratch of Levi’s charcoal on the canvas.

The officer cricked his neck, and shifted his position. Levi caught his eye in the reflection of the window.

“D'you want something?” Levi asked. “Tea?”

“Thank you, sir; but no.” he replied not taking his eye off the mark.

“You really need to stop calling me sir. I’m Levi.”

“As you wish, si–” The officer glanced at him quickly, a fleeting smile. “Levi.”

It was so much a part of who he was, he probably didn’t even know he was doing it. Following orders. Following procedure. Levi thought he’d rather be poked repeatedly with something unpleasant then have to call someone sir or ma'am all day, every day. It wasn’t as if he had a problem with authority, or anything.

They fell back into silence.

“What do you call it?”

Levi put down his charcoal. “What?”

Instead of answering directly, he inclined his head towards the metalwork man between them. Levi always named his art, he suspected most artists did.

“That one is called Crucifixion,”

That look of sadness again, bittersweet.

“Dying for the sins of man?”

“Sacrificing yourself, for others.”

Levi picked back up his charcoal. He wanted to try and capture that look on his face. It was perfect.

Levi jumped when he suddenly spoke, what must have been about half an hour later.

“I have a kill shot,”

“Hold.” the order came a few beats after. “Do not shoot.”

It was weird to think that this man, standing in his living room now, with his quick smile and sad eyes, was getting ready to kill another living person, standing in a room, in a flat, directly opposite where they stood.

“How many people have you killed?” Levi asked.

His shoulders tensed, and Levi was sure he saw him frown.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that, sir.”

Levi was back to being sir again - oops.

“Status report?” the walkie talkie splat, breaking into their silence.

“Target in sight.”

Levi could feel it like electricity in the air; a restless static.

“Do I have a kill order?”

His shoulders hadn’t relaxed since Levi’s question of fifteen minutes before, he was alert; his eyes focused on the target; finger itching on the trigger.

“Do I have a kill, sir?”

There was a trail of sweat along his hairline, making the blond darker around his temples. He was coiled tight.

He waited impatiently and Levi waited with him.

“Stand down.” the order finally came, and his finger was off the trigger, the rifle practically thrown from his hands. His relief was obvious. He would have killed that man if he’d had to, but it wouldn’t have been easy. It was a bit of weird contradiction, considering his job.

The officer breathed in deeply, and let the breath out in a long exhale. Levi watched him as he turned around, for the first time taking a look at the apartment. His gaze roamed slowly, eventually stopping on Levi.

“You have a very orderly home,”

“I like things to be tidy,” Levi replied, defensive. “Everything has it’s place.”

“It wasn’t a criticism,” He muttered, giving Levi another one of those smiles. He ran his fingers through his hair, and looked sideways at Levi: “Can I see it? Your drawing.”

Levi’s stomach clenched at the idea. He was never present at the unveiling of any of his new pieces in the studio. His insecurities always got the better of him. But, seeing as he had been drawing the other man for the past two hours, Levi could hardly tell him to fuck off now.

Levi lifted the canvas from it’s easel and turned it toward the room. His reaction to it was instantaneous. As if Levi had punched him in the gut. He stepped forward, closer, studying the charcoal lines. He looked like someone had just died. It was the same damn reaction Levi had had to it.

It was a man, this man, standing on a battlefield, bodies strewn all around him, holding the tattered remains of a flag. Levi had scrawled “Wings of Freedom” across the top of the canvas.

The officer swallowed and looked at him, his eyes brimming with emotion and question, searching Levi’s face for something. It was another few moments before he licked his lips, shook himself slightly, and smiled. “I’m flattered, really, but I hardly think I look like that.”

Whatever, he looked exactly like that.

Levi put the canvas back on the easel.

“What’s you first name, Smith?”

“Erwin,” he replied easily, but there was still the ghost of sadness in his eyes. “And you are Mr -?”

“Ackerman.” Levi finished.

Levi watched him debate something, the conflicting emotions warring on his face, and then he reached out and picked up one of the charcoal stubs, quickly jotting down a series of numbers on a scarp of paper, he’d picked up from under the easel.

“In case you ever want to talk about that,” he said, glancing quickly at the canvas and away again. “It’s been nice to meet you, Levi.”

“Yeah, you too!”

Levi continued to stare at the canvas in front of him for a long time after Erwin had left.

——>


	2. Textbooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin is disturbed from his work when a swat officer knocks on his front door and demands to come in

Erwin finished reading the essay and slid it slowly on to the table in front of him. It was well written, answered the question, was nicely presented; but there was not an original thought in the whole damned thing. It was safe, textbook, no risks taken; he’d give it the necessary points, but no more than that.

His head ached and he stood up, stretching his back muscles, before wondering into the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee and grab a couple of aspirin. It was as he sat down again that he spotted his page of doodles, and laughed softly. Without even knowing that he’d been doing it, he’d sketched the same face over and over again, in various sizes and dubious quality.

“Hello you,” he murmured and turned the notebook to a new clean page. He’d thought about, and rejected the idea of, giving the face a name several months ago, after he’d realised it was the same one he’d been doodling repeatedly on any surface that stayed still long enough; textbooks, notebooks, the edges of his students essays.

Erwin took a sip from his mug and settled down in his chair, running his gaze over the title of the essay he’d pulled towards him. It was then that the doorbell rang, and he jumped, spilling drops of coffee on the table and essay. He wiped the paper with his shirt sleeve, getting up as the doorbell rang again.

“Yes,” he asked as he opened the door, now more interested in the coffee stains on his shirt sleeve.

“Sir,” the officer said. “There is an armed fugitive on the estate. I have a good vantage point from your window. Please move aside so I can enter.”

Erwin stopped looking at his shirt and instead looked at the armed officer standing on his doorstep, rifle in hand and scowl on face.

“Please move aside.’ the officer said again and, in his surprise, Erwin did. He’d thought it was going to be the package of documents from the university and the sight of body armour and guns threw him completely.

“An armed fugitive?” Erwin asked as the officer marched into his flat and over to the window; he stared for a time at the clutter, mumbled something that sounded like: “what the fuck is all this shit?” and then brushed the whole lot out of his way; textbooks and old newspapers tumbling to the floor in a jumble. He set up his gun sights on the building opposite and then spoke into this walkie talkie: “Ackerman, in place.”

It was only then that he acknowledged Erwin’s question.

“There’s nothing to worry about.” the officer deadpanned. “We’ve got the situation under control.”

Erwin nodded. It certainly looked like he had everything under control.

“Can I get you some tea, coffee, water, orange jui -?”

The officer cut him off. “No,” he said abruptly, and after a pause added. “Thank you.”

Erwin stared at him for a moment longer and then sighed and sat back down at the table to continue his marking.

It had been a long time since he’d had anyone in his flat and he was suddenly very conscious of the mess; the textbooks piled high, the cups and plates scattered among them. He’d have to follow the advise of his assistant and spend at least five minutes a day doing housework; according to Hanji that would mean by the end of the week he’d have the whole flat clean.

All was silent apart from the occasional creak of Erwin’s chair and erratic burst of static from the walkie talkie.

“You teach?” the officer suddenly asked and Erwin frowned, not sure how he knew, until he spotted the textbook still on the windowsill where the officer could see it.

“Yes, at the local university.”

The officer huffed, leaving no doubt in Erwin’s mind that he was not all together impressed.

Erwin couldn’t concentrate on the essay and after another ten minutes of trying he pushed it aside and reached for the crossword puzzle in the morning paper instead. He read through the clues quickly: These gods ruled the seas (5); Another word for RECONNOITRE (5) ; A ____ by any other name … (4); Lay siege to (6); A violent uprising (12); Freedom gained (10); bonking is to hit the ____ (4); How to fake ones _____ (5); Present or proffer (something) for (someone) to accept or reject as desired (5); Absence makes the _____ grow fonder (5); jeans name (5); someone whose job is to make and repair metal objects (5); Red bull gives you _____ (5); The power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants (7); Ave _____ (5); Put to death by law (9).

A few of these he knew the answer to straight away and he quickly jotted in the answers; some however left him stumped.

“Another word for reconnoitre,” he muttered, more to himself then the officer, but still he replied.

“How many letters?”

“Five,” Erwin looked up at him expectantly. His eyes didn’t move an inch from his mark.

“Scout,” he answered after a long drawn out minute.

Erwin tried it and it fit perfectly.

“How about: a violent uprising, twelve letters?”

His pause was longer this time: “Rebellion,” he eventually offered.

Erwin shook his head: “Not enough letters.”

“Revolution,”

It had the right number of letters but didn’t fit. They both fell quiet again, deep in thought.

“Insurrection.” The officer murmured, shuffling into a more comfortable position.

“Brilliant,” Erwin stated, filling in the blanks. “The power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants. Seven letters.”

“Are there any boxes filled already?”

“Yes, an R, an E and a D.”

“Freedom.”

Erwin looked at him impressed.

“Jeans name,” Erwin continued. “Five letters. That’d be Levis right?”

The officer tensed.

“What?” Erwin asked, alarmed. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he replied, and Erwin didn’t think he was going to get any other reply, until he begrudgingly added: “That’s my name.”

“Levi?”

He nodded. Erwin smiled.

Levi suddenly took aim, his sight sharp, primed and ready.

“I have the shot,” he stated into the walkie talkie, his voice clipped and efficient, devoid of emotion.

Erwin shivered at his cold, focused stare and decided to go and make some tea instead.

“Stand down, Ackerman.’

“For fuck’s sake,” Erwin heard him snap. “I have him in my sight.”

“Stand down.”

Erwin thought it was probably a very hard thing to do, to try and get Levi to follow orders, and he was glad he didn’t have anything to do with it.

All went quiet and he popped his head back round the door: “I’m making tea, d'you take milk, sugar?”

“No,” came sharp response and Erwin decided to take that as a ‘no, he didn’t want milk and sugar, thank you’.

“Here you are,” Erwin said cheerily as he handed the steaming mug to his now disgruntled house-guest. “I’m Erwin, by the way.”

They settled back down into a quiet ease.

“I’m really stuck on this one,” Erwin said after another little time had passed.

“Show me,” Levi replied.

Erwin got up and went over to him, putting the newspaper under his nose: “Present or proffer (something) for (someone) to accept or reject as desired?”

“Give?”

“Too short,” It suddenly clicked in Erwin’s head. “Oh, I’ve got it. Offer.”

He filled in the last few blanks and put the crossword down triumphantly. They both stared at it. Words started jumping out at Erwin, seemingly at random:

_attack titan_

_scout death_

_wall rose maria_

_insurrection execution liberation_

_offer heart_

_wings freedom_

In an instant Erwin went from exhalted to scared; it felt like an iron fist was slowly closing around his heart, making it difficult for him to breath. He looked at Levi to see that he was just as pale and scared as Erwin was. Levi glanced at him quickly and then returned his gaze to the gun sight.

Erwin looked back at the puzzle, picking out two more words: _levis smith_ ; and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What?” Levi asked, unamused.

“Well, your name’s Levi, and my surname’s Smith, so I guess that means, I’m yours.”

The second it was out of his mouth, he regretted it. It sounded like the worst pickup line in the history of bad pickup lines.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound so - ”

“Forget it.” Levi said, his voice still harsh but amusement in his eyes.

Erwin shuffled back over to the table, embarrassment making him wish the floor would open up and swallow him.

“Status update,” the walkie talkie squawked. “Fugitive has been apprehended.”

Levi exhaled slowly, put down his rifle and removed his helmet. For the second time in the space of fifteen minutes, Erwin felt like his heart was in a vice. It was him, the face, the one he’d been doodling on countless textbooks and notebooks and students essays.

Erwin stared at Levi in awe.

“You’re an interesting man, Erwin Smith.”

The embarrassment from earlier returned: “Is that a compliment?”

“It isn’t a criticism.”

Erwin watched as Levi picked up one of the scattering of pens on the table and scribbled a series of numbers on a blank page of his notebook.

“Just in case.” he murmured.

Erwin continued to stare at the doodles in his notebook for a long time after Levi had left.


End file.
